


No touch can do half as much

by iwillnotbecaged



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Demisexual Sam, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Light Angst, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Touch-Starved, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-10 11:18:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12298158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillnotbecaged/pseuds/iwillnotbecaged
Summary: The first time Sam clasped Steve’s shoulder, behind him at the kitchen table while they planned how to get Sam’s wings, Steve flinched.Sam was careful after that — there were a million possible reasons for a reaction like that, and he really wasn’t sure he wanted to know which one was true. So he kept his hands to himself, even though it felt strange.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I think this is gonna end up being three chapters total, and the rating will probably increase, but I don't know for sure yet.
> 
> Un-beta'd, so let me know if you see any typos or weirdness.

_I need the shelter of your arms to comfort me_  
_No other sound is quite the same as your name_  
_No touch can do half as much to make me feel better_

“Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing” — Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell

* * *

The first time Sam clasped Steve’s shoulder, behind him at the kitchen table while they planned how to get Sam’s wings, Steve flinched.

Sam was careful after that — there were a million possible reasons for a reaction like that, and he really wasn’t sure he wanted to know which one was true. So he kept his hands to himself, even though it felt strange.

He’d never been one of those guys who was afraid to show affection. You couldn’t be in the Wilson clan. Wherever he turned growing up someone was giving him a hug or patting his cheek or bumping him with a hip to get him out of the way. He and Sarah and Deon would pile all together on the couch to watch movies, even after Sam and Deon both topped six feet.

The military certainly didn’t break him of the habit, even with DADT always in the back of his mind. Living in close quarters like they did, staying self-contained would have been impossible, and often it was the feel of someone’s hand on your elbow or feet in your lap that reminded you that you were still there, still alive and breathing even after all the shit you’d seen that day.

Sam’s instinct when he saw someone in need was to reach out, to touch. He was cautious with the folks at the VA, of course, fully aware that not everyone was like him. But Steve seemed so much more relaxed in his kitchen than he had been leaning awkwardly in that doorway and Sam was more focused on not completely losing his shit over the idea of getting his wings back, so he slipped.

But Steve flinched, so he put his hand in his pocket and turned his attention back to the task at hand.

* * *

After Sitwell, after the bridge, after the STRIKE team, Sam sat across from Steve in the back of that truck, certain that this was it. Of course it was. Of course he would get his wings back just to find himself being whisked away from the world, never to be seen again.

Then there was Maria Hill and Nick Fury and he wasn’t going to die today after all - at least not yet.

He found Steve standing outside the bunker, looking out at the view from the top of the dam.

“He’s gonna be there, you know?” 

“I know.”

Sam remembered Steve’s face when he was forced to his knees, the sheer raw emotion it held. It’s gone now, hidden again behind stoicism, but Sam could see the cracks now. He could see just how tightly Steve was holding himself together. He wished he could lie to him, tell him it was all gonna be alright. He couldn’t though. As much as he wanted to wrap Steve in a blanket and feed him his mom’s chicken soup, he couldn’t. There wasn’t time. And he was pretty sure Steve wouldn’t have let him even if they had all the time in the world.

“Look, whoever he used to be, the guy he is now, I don't think he's the kind you save. He's the kind you stop.”

“I don't know if I can do that.”

“Well, he might not give you a choice. He doesn't know you.”

“He will.”

Steve’s voice didn’t crack or waver. Sam would have envied him his certainty if he had believed it, but he knew all too well what lying to yourself looked like. Steve had to believe Barnes would know him because he couldn’t see a way forward without it.

If Steve was anyone else, Sam would have hugged him, or patted his arm, or fuck, shook his hand — something. But Steve was Steve, and right then, with his jaw clenched and his shoulders back, Steve was Captain America and a comforting touch wasn’t something he would allow himself.

So Sam watched him walk away, then turned to gear up for the fight at hand.

* * *

When the helicarriers were at the bottom of the Potomac and a smokey haze still hung in the air, Sam sat next to Steve in his hospital room and held his hand.

He shouldn’t; he knew that. But after everything — after watching Steve fall out of the sky and not being sure he would get there in time, after having his wings destroyed, ripped away from him again, after the leap from the Triskelion to the helicopter, a mix of terror and insane joy at being airborne again — after everything, he needed to hold Steve’s hand.

He needed to feel grounded, to feel present. He needed physical proof that he hadn’t failed, he hadn’t been too late. Steve had fallen from the sky again, and even though he hadn’t seen it, even though he knew he wasn’t responsible, he needed the warmth of Steve’s hand in his to calm the bubbling roil in his gut.

After a while, he felt solidly present in his body again. He was breathing deep without consciously counting inhales and exhales, so he laid Steve’s hand down by his side, put on the Trouble Man soundtrack, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

* * *

Sam had known that searching for the Winter Soldier — or Barnes, as Steve insisted on calling him — would be a long term commitment. He didn’t follow Steve into it blindly; it’s not like he was expecting them to be out on the road for a couple of weeks and then just trip over him or anything.

But Sam had underestimated just how lonely he would be during the process.

He was with Steve, and he loved the guy, sure, but he wasn’t exactly the best company. That single-minded stubbornness that made him so good as a soldier wasn’t ideal for a long-term mission like this one. To the untrained eye, Steve probably seemed fine, but Sam had plenty of experience with people who were very good at hiding their pain; hell, he was good at it too.

He could see Steve cracking under the strain, his souped-up body pushed to its limits, his sanity held together by spit and glue, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t know how to help.

It was different, being with someone 24/7 instead of seeing them for an hour once or twice a week. The thin places were so much more obvious, Steve’s unguarded moments coming more frequently and lasting longer.

The increasing openness, the growing trust Steve had in him should have eased his loneliness, but it didn’t. If anything, seeing the depths of Steve’s pain, how lost he was, and realizing that he had been this way for years now just made it worse.

Steve reminded Sam of a broken-winged bird he had found as a kid, lying in the dirt underneath the big oak tree in the park. He’d wrapped it up in his shirt and walked home carefully, too afraid of jostling it to run like he wanted.

His mom had shook her head when she’d seen it, but she’d helped him set up a box for it, surrounding the bird with warm, soft towels. The whole family had prayed for the bird during grace at dinner, and Sam had prayed again at night, kneeling next to his bed just in case that really did help.

The bird had died, of course — it had been too weak and wounded when he’d found it for there to be any real hope. He’d cried and cried, sitting on his mom’s lap, wrapped in her arms with her hands stroking his back, up and down, up and down. 

Life and the military had tried to drum that sensitivity out of him, but he’d just packed it down, a tiny core in the center of him, and then he had fought long and hard to unpack it all after Riley, after everything. He’d seen a lot of men and women turn hard, make themselves into iron and steel, and had fought tooth and nail to keep some small piece of softness inside him.

Except now, looking at Steve, all of his soft places were aching, just like they had as a child, and there was no one to pull him into their lap and no one that he could pull into his lap.

And he would. Oh how he would — if he thought Steve would let him, it wouldn’t take him more than a heartbeat. But Steve was too self-contained, too used to having his guard up. 

And Sam didn’t blame him for it, not really. He knew Steve’s story as well as anyone, maybe even better than most. But sometimes Steve wasn’t the only one who needed a soothing touch or a warm hug. Phone conversations with friends and family back home were great, but sometimes the ache Sam could see in Steve was the same ache he felt deep in his gut.


	2. Chapter 2

They criss-crossed Eastern Europe, following leads that Natasha fed them and funneling leads of their own back to Director Hill. After a recon mission outside of Odessa turned into an unexpected combat mission when the Hydra base was more operational than the intelligence had indicated, they headed to one of Natasha’s safe houses. 

It wasn’t what Sam had expected; he had anticipated something remote and tucked away, far from prying eyes. Instead, it was a narrow, three-story building on a public beach, gray brick with bright blue porch railings on each level. There were kids running up and down the stretch of beach between the house and the water, and what appeared to be a surfing school a few hundred yards down.

They were both fine — Steve’s minor injuries had already healed and Sam was just bruised and sore — but Sam was looking forward to lying low for a few days and enjoying the beach. He took the third floor bedroom, knowing Steve would insist on putting himself between Sam and the street. 

After he had showered off the dust and grime, he found Steve in the small kitchen downstairs, cooking scrambled eggs. It wasn’t breakfast time, but eggs were easy and Sam wasn’t going to complain. He went to see what else was in the fridge, grasping Steve’s elbow to let him know he was behind him without thinking. Steve stiffened, and Sam mentally kicked himself.

“Sorry, man. I know you don’t like to be touched.”

Steve looked confused. “What? No, no that’s not it.”

Sam moved way and leaned back against the counter, giving Steve some space.

“It’s, um, just unfamiliar. Since...since I woke up...I’m just...not used to it.”

Sam nodded. There was so much Steve wasn’t saying, so much between the lines. He didn’t want to push too hard and scare Steve off, or stick his nose into something that wasn’t his business. Steve was obviously a private guy. On the other hand, that was clearly the strategy everyone else who had met the guy in the past 3 years had adopted, too, and it didn’t seem to be working all that well.

It wasn’t like Sam thought he was particularly special — Steve had had plenty of opportunities to open up before and there was no reason he should want to open up to Sam over any of those people. But at the same time, Sam was here, and none of those other people were.

“Do you want to get used to it? Or are you good?”

Steve slid the eggs from the pan to a plate and shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“Just because it is, doesn’t mean it has to be. What do you want?”

Steve turned off the stove and looked up at him then, brow furrowed. “You’ve asked me that before.”

Sam smiled at him. “Sounds like something I would do.”

“At the VA. You asked me what made me happy, and I said I didn’t know.” He fiddled with a dishtowel that had been hanging off the oven door. “I still don’t.”

“You know you don’t have to know, right? I’m pretty sure most people don’t.” Steve scoffed at him. “I’m serious! Sure, they _think_ they know what makes them happy, but I’m pretty sure if they did, the self-help section of the bookstore would be a lot smaller.”

Steve gave him one of those smiles that only looked like a smile if you didn’t know him. “If you say so.”

“And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve managed to sidestep my original question. You want me to keep trying to stay out of your personal space?”

“We’ve been sharing hotel rooms for months now, Sam. I think you’re already in my personal space.”

Sam crossed his arms and gave Steve his best Darlene Wilson don’t-sass-me look. Steve sighed.

“Fine, whatever. Just...just be yourself. Don’t change how you act on my account.”

“Okay. I can do that.” Sam figured that was the best he was gonna get, and it was good enough for now. “You gonna give me some of those eggs, or what?”

“Oh, did you want some? These are all for me.” Steve’s smile was real now because, from what Sam could tell, what made him happy was being a little shit.

“Asshole.” Sam reached past Steve to grab another plate, pressing into his space and brushing against his side as he did. Sam made a point not to look for a reaction, but there was a hint of a blush on Steve’s cheeks when they finally sat down to eat.

* * *

 

Later, after they had eaten and gotten a few hours of sleep, Sam made his way down to the edge of the water. It was the middle of the night and while he could hear the sounds of a party farther down the beach, if he looked out across the sea, he could pretend it was just him and the sand and the waves and the stars.

He wiggled his toes in the sand. This place was a far cry from the noisy bustle of family reunions in Myrtle Beach at the height of tourist season, but standing here still felt like coming home, somehow. For a long time, the feel of sand on his skin had brought back different memories, memories of heat and blood and smoke. But eventually those images had been replaced by new ones that were much more similar to the originals — splash fights and popsicles and nieces and nephews tackling him and burying him in the sand.

He smiled to himself, and made a note to ask his mom what the plans were for this year the next time he called her. Steve could carry on without him for a week or so. Hell, maybe Steve would come with him. It would probably do him some good.

It was cold, which he should have expected for October in Ukraine, and his skin was covered in goosebumps. He was just about to turn and go inside when the weight of a blanket landed on his shoulders. He pulled it tight around him and kept watching the water.

“Thanks.”

“Figured you might need it,” Steve said. He was wearing a short-sleeve t-shirt and Sam just shook his head.

Steve gazed out over the water, too, but Sam could practically hear the wheels turning. Once or twice he thought about telling Steve to just spit it out, but whatever it was, he could wait.

Eventually, Steve turned towards him. 

“Sam…”

Sam looked over at him.

“Yeah?”

“I...could I…” Steve huffed a sigh of frustration and Sam blinked and then all of a sudden Steve was kissing him. One hand was on the side of Sam’s face, the other was on his waist, and both of them were full of tension, as were the lips that were pressed against Sam’s.

Sam brought his hands up to Steve’s shoulders. There was desperation in every fiber of his body, and Sam pressed him away gently and pulled back.

Steve’s eyes were closed and he looked like he was about to cry. “I’m sorry. I — Sam, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He turned away from Sam and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

“You wanna tell me what that was?” Sam asked cautiously, keeping his voice even.

“I — I...I’m sorry. It was — I’m just — I’m gonna go.” He turned to walk back into the house.

“Hey,” Sam said softly, catching Steve’s hand and pulling him back. “I’m not saying no. Just saying there’s no rush.” He laced his fingers into Steve’s and tugged him even closer. “I’m a take-it-slow kinda guy and just a few hours ago you were jumping when I touched your elbow.”

Steve nodded, but it didn’t seem like any words were coming. Sam wanted to push, wanted to make him talk, make Steve tell him what the hell was going on in his head. 

“Just...stay here with me for a bit.” He meant more than just here on the beach, and hoped that Steve, with all the things he never said, would hear what Sam wasn’t saying, too.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Steve stood next to him and squeezed his hand. They stayed like that, shoulders and arms pressed gently together, hands intertwined, until even the blanket around his shoulders wasn’t enough to keep him warm.

* * *

 

Sam was just finishing getting ready for bed when there was a soft knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Steve stood in the doorway in pajama pants and white t-shirt, stretched thin from use. He looked soft and vulnerable in a way Sam had never seen as he tucked his chin to his chest and scrubbed a hand through his hair.

“Do you think...could I…” He trailed off, and Sam chuckled internally at how truly bad at this he was.

“Could you what?”

Steve exhaled audibly, then rolled his shoulders back and all of a sudden he was more Captain America than Steve Rogers.

“Could I sleep in here tonight? With you?” He paused, then stumbled on again quickly. “Just sleep, I mean, I heard what you said outside and —”

Sam cut him off. “Sure, Steve. I got you.” He swept an arm out over the bed. “Come on in.”

He turned to the dresser to finish putting his clothes away and give Steve some privacy. He grinned; leave it to Steve to jump in with both feet once he’d decided something. When he turned back to the bed and saw Steve lying in it, his stomach did a couple of flips. He really hadn’t seen this coming.

He climbed into the bed, clicked of the light, and faced Steve, ambient light from outside the window creating patterns on the bed and letting him see parts of Steve’s face. Steve, who was looking at Sam like he was a warm fire and Steve had been lost out in the cold. 

Sam’s internal laughter was aimed at himself this time for that particular comparison.

“You know, I had no idea you would be interested in someone like me.”

Steve looked confused. “Someone like you?”

Sam shrugged. “A man, I mean.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Your generation didn’t invent queerness, you know.”

“I’m just saying. You’d think I would have at least caught you checking out someone’s ass at some point in the last few months, as much time as we’ve spent together.”

“Well, that would have been hard since it was usually yours I was checking out.” Steve’s smirk should have looked out of place on Captain America’s face, but Sam thought it suited him pretty perfectly.

“Oohhh, smooth. You as good with lines as you are with inspiring speeches?”

Steve ducked his head into his pillow, and Sam was pretty sure he was blushing. It was cute. “Definitely not. Must just be you.”

Sam shifted closer and kissed his forehead, then stayed close, trailing his hand up and down Steve’s arm.

Steve’s voice was hushed when he spoke again after a few minutes. “I’m a take-it-slow kinda guy, too, usually.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

Steve took Sam’s other hand and traced the lines of it, sending sparks zinging up and down Sam’s spine. “I guess I’ve been thinking about you so long, it feels like it has been slow.”

“There you go again.” Sam smiled and shook his head. “But I get what you mean. Just give me some time to catch up? You know I’m slower than you.”

Steve laughed softly, then brought Sam’s hand up so he could kiss his palm. “Yeah, I know. We got time.”

“We do.”

They stayed like that, breathing into each other’s space, until they fell asleep. It was the best night of sleep Sam had had in quite awhile.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I thought it was gonna be 3 chapters, but turns out it's gonna be 4...I'm pretty sure.
> 
> Huge huge thanks to [vantablacksteverogers](http://vantablacksteverogers.tumblr.com) and [stonecoldfemme](http://stonecoldfemme.tumblr.com) for their help on this chapter. Go visit them on tumblr and tell them they're awesome :)
> 
> [(come say hi to me too)](http://i-will-not-be-caged.tumblr.com)

The stay at the beach house was nice, but it couldn’t last. They did have a mission to finish, after all, so they packed up and went back to chasing down every lead they could find. And while they didn’t seem to ever come any closer to finding Barnes, there was a definite shift in Steve’s emotional state, and consequently Sam’s as well.

He hadn’t realized how much the lack of physical affection had been impacting him, but his response to Steve’s small touches throughout the day, to sharing a bed most nights, to holding hands in the car like teenagers was too palpable to be ignored. He needed this, and he had been missing it for months, and now it was like some piece of him that had been off-kilter and out-of-joint had finally settled back into place.

It seemed to be having a similar impact on Steve as well. While there were still plenty of days that the continued futility of their search ground him down, his smiles were more frequent, his laughter quicker and more honest.

He was also getting a lot more handsy. Sam had been keeping things between them slow, not allowing Steve to move past a few hot-and-heavy make out sessions. And it wasn’t that Steve was pushing for more — he was a perfect gentleman about it. But it was also pretty obvious that he wouldn’t object to taking things farther.

Sam wasn’t sure why he was hesitating; he would have expected it initially, sure, but he and Steve were close enough by now that he didn’t think that would be an issue. It wasn’t a demi thing, it was more of a...well, he didn’t know what it was. And as frustrating as it was not to know why, he couldn’t deny that whenever things started to get heated, he shut down.

They were wrapped up in each other in yet another hotel bed in yet another city when Sam pulled away from Steve yet again. He flopped back on the bed and scrubbed his hands over his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I just — I’m sorry.”

Steve reached out and took his hand, but otherwise kept his distance. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

Sam looked at him then, skepticism clear on his face.

“Really, Sam. The past few weeks...I feel better than I can remember feeling in years. I don’t need anything besides this, so if you’re trying to push yourself for me, you don’t —”

“I’m not. I promise I’m not.” He rolled back towards Steve and studied his face. The furrow in his brow, the concern in his eyes, the little twist in his mouth he always got when he saw something he thought needed to be set right — it was a good face. He reached up to stroke a cheekbone with his thumb. “You’re sweet.”

Steve threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, right. If Bucky were here, he’d be happy to tell you about all the ways I am definitely not sweet.”

Sam dropped his eyes, and the twist in his stomach at the mention of Bucky pinged something in the back of his mind. Maybe he knew more about why he was hesitating than he wanted to admit, but he pushed the thought away. Nothing that Steve had ever said about Bucky indicated that they had been anything but friends; that wasn’t what this was about.

“It’s almost Thanksgiving, you know,” he changed the subject. Steve let him.

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

Sam bit his lip and looked back up at Steve from under his eyelashes. “Want to go back to New York for a few days and meet my family?”

“Don’t think I don’t know exactly what you’re doing with that face, Samuel.”

“What face?” he asked innocently.

“Uh huh. ‘What face,’ my ass.” Steve leaned in and kissed him. “But sure. It would probably be good for me to check in with Tony, too. New York for Thanksgiving sounds great.”

“Thanks.” Sam smiled. “You have no idea what you just got yourself into, but thanks.”

Steve gasped in mock offense. “Moms love me, I’ll have you know. I’m the epitome of goodness and wholesomeness.”

“Uh huh. Sure you are. And Darlene Wilson can spot bullshit a mile away, so you better be prepared.”

Steve smiled and reached out to cup the side of Sam’s face. “I can’t wait.”

* * *

 

It wasn’t until they were walking up the steps to his Aunt Denise’s house in Wheatley Heights that Sam realized he probably should have given Steve some sort of briefing on his family’s Thanksgiving. Considering Steve’s Thanksgiving experiences were either from the Depression, the war, or the misfit family that was the Avengers, he was pretty sure Steve had no idea what he was getting himself into.

“Um, before we go in,” he started, turning towards Steve on the stoop, but then he paused. Steve’s excited grin was adorable, as was his navy cardigan and the carefully selected gourmet bakery-bought pie he was holding in front of him. He’d been so proud of himself when he brought it home, asking Sam if he thought his family would like it, that Sam just smiled, told him it was great, and then distracted him with a kiss.

Sam was carrying his homemade potato salad, having been informed by Sarah that if he deigned to show up without it, she’d shove him right back out the door, brother or not.

“Yeah?” Steve asked, breaking Sam out of his thoughts.

“Never mind. You’ll be fine.” Sam turned and rang the doorbell.

“I’m gonna try not to be intimidated by that,” Steve said wryly, but Sam didn’t have time to respond before the door was flung open and Aunt Dede was pulling him into a hug.

“What you doin’ ringing that doorbell? You ain’t family anymore?” He laughed and let her sway him back and forth, then push him back to arm’s length so she could get a look at him. “Oh, it has been too long since I’ve seen you! You look good, Samuel.”

“Thanks, Aunt Dede. This is Steve.” He gestured to where Steve still stood on the stoop, and Steve gave a dorky little wave, because of course he did.

Aunt Dede gave him an impressed look that was the farthest thing from subtle and he just shook his head at her.

“Well, get in here, Steve,” she said and pulled him into the foyer and straight into a hug. Sam grinned at the look of surprise on Steve’s face, his arms flung out to the side to keep his pie from being smushed between them.

“Where’s Mom?” He asked once she had let Steve go. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Steve adjusted his cardigan and regained his composure, and was glad to see he seemed fine after the initial shock.

“Oh, she’s in the kitchen arguing with Denise about the dressing, of course. Y’all come on through.”

She led them towards the back of the house and into the kitchen, introducing Steve to every aunt and uncle and cousin they passed as she did, and considering his mom was one of 6, there were a lot of them. Sam was pretty sure Steve had been hugged more in the past 10 minutes than he had in his entire life. Even Sarah hugged him immediately, and she didn’t even hug Sam until she had made sure he had the potato salad with him.

His mom gave him the longest hug of all of them. “Now, Sam told me I couldn’t give you grief about getting him caught up in all that mess down in D.C., but you’ve had my boy running all over the place and not taking time to come see me, so he knows I’m gonna say something anyway.”

“Mom,” Sam said, giving her a look, but since he learned all about giving looks from her, it was less than effective.

Steve pulled away and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I told him we could make time for him to visit more often, since I knew you were probably worried about him, but he’s kind of stubborn.”

“Steve!”

Darlene laughed. “Oh, you’re a slick one, aren’t you? I’ve got your number now.”

She turned to Sam and pulled him in for his hug then. “I like him,” she whispered into his ear.

“Yeah, well, he’s not throwing _you_ under the bus,” Sam grumbled.

She laughed, kissed his cheek, then whispered again. “You like him, too. I’m glad — you look happy.”

He squeezed her a little tighter and breathed her in, feeling a part of him he hadn’t known was tense unclench. “I am, Mom. I am.”

* * *

 

Before long, the food was ready and everyone gathered around the table for Denise’s husband, Ray, to say grace. As they were getting organized, Steve leaned over and spoke under his breath.

“Man, I’m so glad we’re about to eat. I’m starving.”

Sam chuckled. “I should have told you to eat a protein bar in the car. We’ve still got awhile to wait.”

Steve looked confused, but Sam just patted his hand, then linked their fingers together as everyone held hands to pray.

When Ray finally finished, Steve’s stomach was audibly growling. “Now do we get to eat?”

Sam laughed, then gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Now we get to eat.”

He looked up to see Deon watching them. When he caught Sam’s eye, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Sam rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue at his older brother, who just laughed and started piling food on his plate.

“I saw that, Sam,” Darlene said from halfway down the table.

“Sorry, Mom,” Sam mumbled sheepishly, taking the basket of cornbread from the cousin sitting next to him.

Dinner was a raucous affair, everyone talking over everyone else, telling stories and cracking jokes. The room was filled with laughter and calls to pass the mac and cheese and Sam hadn’t realized just how quiet his life had become. He didn’t think he could deal with all the noise day in and day out, but he was definitely going to enjoy it while he was there.

At one point Deon’s oldest son, Isaac, who had just started his freshman year in college started to lecture Steve about mass incarceration and institutional racism. Steve continued shovelling food into his mouth and nodded along interestedly, soaking up every word, until Dede interrupted Isaac and spooned more yams onto his plate.

“Eat your food, Isaac, and leave that poor boy alone.”

“Thank you, ma’am, but I don’t mind,” Steve reassured her.

“I’m sure you don’t, but I’m sittin’ right here and I don’t wanna hear about all that mess during my Thanksgiving dinner, thank you very much.”

Sam laughed and Isaac crossed his arms and Steve looked like he had no idea what he was supposed to say and Sam laughed even more.

Eventually the eating slowed and the kids went outside to play while the grown folks kept the wine and conversation flowing.

“Uncle Sam, come play with us!” Sarah’s son, Jody, tugged at his arm and Sam groaned.

“I’m too full to play right now, Jody. Maybe later.” Jody pouted, but Sam wouldn’t be moved.

“I’ll go play with you,” Steve offered. Jody lit up and dragged Steve outside. There were shouts and cheers and then the door closed behind them and Sam turned back to listen to the story Uncle Ray was telling about that time Jalen and Marcus decided to play ding-dong-ditch and ended up getting chased all the way back home by the man who turned out to be one of Ray’s coworkers and a college track star.

Jalen was blushing and texting under the table, probably yelling at his brother for ditching him to go spend the holiday with his wife’s family that year.

Sam tried to stay involved in the conversation, but his eyes kept drifting out to the backyard. He watched through the glass door as the kids engaged Steve in a game that looked mostly like trying to get as many of them climbing on him as possible before he fell down onto the grass. He would topple over and all of them would pile on, then run away, and Steve would jump up and the game would start all over again. 

His mom gave him a knowing look from a few seats down. “Oh, don’t you start,” he told her, but he couldn’t seem to keep from looking, or wipe the adoring grin off his face.

* * *

 

After a long round of hugs and goodbyes, they walked down the street towards the train, stepping in and out of pools of orange cast by the streetlights. Sam reached over and took Steve’s hand — the one not holding the plate of leftovers Aunt Denise had shoved at him as they left — and linked their fingers together. Steve smiled, small but real.

“It’s a real compliment, you know,” Sam said.

“What is?”

“Everyone letting their kids climb all over you.”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know. They’re kids, and I didn’t try to stop them. Doesn’t seem like much.”

“Steve,” Sam shook his head. “Did you see any other white people in that yard today?”

Steve kicked a rock down the sidewalk. “No.”

“Deon brought a white girl home once. She was great — nice to everyone, complimented all the food, listened more than she talked. And every time one of the kids would come over to talk to her, it wouldn’t be more than a minute before the adults shooed them away and told them to go play.”

“They probably just didn’t want them to bother her. I doubt she actually went and lay down in the grass like I did.”

“So stubborn...the thing is, my family...they love people, but they’re not quick to trust outsiders. And you, well, you’re about as outside as they come.”

Steve looked amused, and a bit wistful.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Nothing. Just reminded me of a story Fury told me once.”

Sam waited, but Steve didn’t seem inclined to say more. “My point is they like you. And not just because I told them to.”

Steve laughed. “Well, obviously! I don’t think anyone could tell the Wilsons how to feel about something, even another Wilson.”

Sam bumped Steve’s shoulder, knocking him off balance, but pulled him close again almost immediately. Steve was loose and relaxed, letting Sam manhandle him instead of holding himself rigid and immovable. Sam would have blamed it on the copious amounts of wine if he hadn’t known that it had little to no effect on Steve.

“ _Anyway_...they let you in. I just want to make sure you know how big of a deal that is.”

“Well, thanks.” Sam was pretty sure Steve was blushing. He stroked the back of his hand with his thumb.

“I mean, Deon’s girlfriend definitely didn’t get a to-go plate."

A train was conveniently pulling in when they reached the station.. They got settled, Sam in a seat and Steve standing in front of him, leaning against the upright bar even though there were plenty of seats.

“You not gonna sit?”

“Nah,” Steve said, giving Sam one of his cheesy TV smiles. “Easier for me to look at you from here.”

“You fucking sap.” Sam shook his head, but when Steve leaned down to kiss him, he let him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the rating has changed! Here be sexy times!
> 
> Thanks to the squad and all the folks on tumblr for the cheerleading - I love all y'all

The ride back to Brooklyn was long and by the end of it, Steve had sat down and Sam was slumped against him, mostly asleep. Steve shook him gently when they needed to switch over to the subway and again when they finally got to their stop. He didn’t remember much of the walk back, but it must have happened because eventually he was in Steve’s bathroom, brushing his teeth.

He finished and shuffled into the bedroom. Steve gazed at him, a look that was soft and full of something Sam didn’t want to put words to yet. “You need me to help you get undressed, or you think you can handle that on your own.”

Sam looked down at all the buttons on his shirt and almost decided to just sleep in his clothes. He looked back up at Steve. “Maybe just the buttons?”

Steve chuckled, and stepped close, unbuttoning his shirt for him and then pushing it gently off his shoulders. He tossed it onto the chair in the corner like the slob that he was, but Sam was too tired to say anything about it.

Steve’s hands rested at the waistband of his pants. “Just those buttons, or this one too?”

“Hmmmm.” Sam swayed into Steve and closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against his shoulder and letting Steve hold him up. “You can do that one, too.”

Steve unbuckled his belt and undid the button. He paused, but Sam just looped his arms around his neck, so he continued with the zipper and let Sam’s pants fall to the floor. Steve knelt to untie his shoes and Sam whined at having to hold himself up with his own strength.

“Just a second, baby. Left,” he said, tapping Sam’s left leg so that he would lift it up. Sam did, and Steve pulled off his shoe and got him out of his pant leg, then did the same with his right. Sam opened his eyes when Steve didn’t stand up immediately, and even as tired as he was, the sight of Steve on his knees in front of him made him think that maybe he didn’t need sleep right that very minute.

But Steve just kissed his hip, then stood up and kissed his mouth, slow and sweet. Steve pulled back before the kiss could build and nudged Sam towards the bed.

“Go. I’ll be right there.”

Sam got into bed and pulled the covers over him. He was almost asleep when Steve climbed in behind him and wrapped him in his arms. He snuffled sleepily and burrowed closer into Steve’s embrace, feeling full and warm and happy.

* * *

 

When Sam woke up in the morning, Steve was already out of bed, which wasn’t exactly a surprise. He didn’t really know how to sleep late, and they’d been on vacation, for all intents and purposes, for a few days now, so he was probably itching to get back to their search for the Winter Soldier.

Sam wasn’t going to let thoughts of heading back out onto the road spoil his good mood, though. Yesterday had been a great day with his family — just what he had needed. And he didn’t want to get too ahead of himself, but introducing Steve to them had gone as well as he could have ever hoped, if not better.

He thought about getting home last night and grinned to himself at the memory. It was pretty vague, but the lingering feeling of being cherished and cared for was there, even if the specifics weren’t. He stretched and made himself get up, pull on some sweatpants and a t-shirt, and go see what Steve was up to.

It turned out breakfast was what Steve was up to. Sam padded into the kitchen and was greeted by the smell of bacon and pancakes and maybe a little bit of something burning. He was also greeted with the sight of Steve still in pajamas with some serious bedhead, which was very effective at distracting him from whatever might have gone wrong with breakfast. There was coffee made, so he went to pour himself a cup.

“What do we have here?” he asked, bumping Steve with his elbow.

“Um, well, I was up, so I thought you might like some breakfast?” Steve seemed nervous, as if Sam would be upset at someone making him breakfast.

He peered around Steve to see a huge plate of pancakes on the counter. “It looks great. You need any help?”

“Just some plates and forks for the table. This is the last of the batter,” he said, pouring it into the pan in front of him.

“Sounds good.” Sam kissed the edge of his jaw and dragged his hand along Steve’s back and he moved past him to get the silverware. He still got a little thrill each time he got to touch Steve like that, and he was pretty sure that Steve did too, if his blush was any indication.

Eventually the table was set and all the food was laid out and they sat down to eat. Steve immediately shifted so that his foot was resting against Sam’s under the table, and Sam smiled down at his plate.

Steve gestured toward the tower of pancakes. “The ones at the top are just regular pancakes, but the ones at the bottom have bacon in them. I’m not sure if it worked — I think the bacon might have gotten a little overcooked in some of them.”

Sam looked at him, impressed. “Where did you learn how to make pancakes with bacon in them.”

Steve kicked him gently. “I do know how to google shit, you know.”

Sam kicked him back. “I know. You’ve gotten very good at the Google.”

“Shut up and eat your pancakes.” Steve trapped his foot between his ankles, then ran one foot up Sam’s calf, all the while pouring syrup over his pancakes innocently.

After Sam had eaten his fill and Steve had demolished most of the rest of the pancakes, Sam leaned back in his chair and stretched.

“So, when are we gonna head back out? You get any leads from Natasha the other day?”

“Um, actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Steve said, picking at the edge of the table with his fingernail.

Sam leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Yeah?”

“Well, you know I went to the Tower the other day.” Sam nodded. “I was talking to Tony and apparently there’s been a lot of chatter about Hydra lately, and something about Loki’s staff, and um, there’s just a lot going on. And Tony was saying it might be a good idea to get the team a bit more organized, you know?”

“Okay…” Sam wasn’t sure where Steve was going with this.

“So, I was thinking that instead of going back out, I would stay here. In New York. Not move into the Tower or anything — although Tony would love that, I’m sure — but, yeah. What do you think?”

Sam nodded again, and then it was his turn to study the wood grain in the table. “I mean, if you think that’s what’s best, you gotta do what you gotta do. Do you want me to keep looking or…?”

He trailed off. He couldn’t imagine Steve would want to give up the search completely, so that must be it. Steve was gonna stay in New York and be an Avenger, and he would trust Sam to keep looking for Barnes.

“I was, um...I was kinda hoping you would stay with me?” Sam’s head snapped up in surprise. Steve got up and picked up his plate, moving to the sink so that his back was to Sam. “I mean, I guess it’d be moving pretty fast and all, so you wouldn’t have to like, move in or anything, if you didn’t want to. But you could. If you wanted. Or you could keep looking for Bucky. Really, whatever you want.”

Sam gaped at him, speechless. He just kept rambling as he started washing his plate.

“Even if you don’t want to stay with me, at the very least, the team could use another flier. I think Tony’s gonna bring Colonel Rhodes in, too, if that helps.”

Sam was pretty sure that if Steve kept scrubbing that plate he was gonna scrub right through it, so he stood up and went over to him. He took the plate out of his hand, set it in the sink, and turned off the water.

Then he put a hand on either side of Steve’s face and kissed him within an inch of his life.

Steve’s startled noise was muffled and within a few seconds, he had melted into the kiss, his hands coming up to Sam’s waist. Sam ran one hand through the hair on the back of Steve’s head and gripped it tight, keeping him from pulling away. The other drifted down Steve’s chest and then up under his shirt, needing to feel the heat of his skin with nothing in the way.

Steve wanted him to stay. Steve wanted him.

“Sam…” Steve started when finally had to stop to breathe, but Sam just kissed him again to make him stop.

He pressed their foreheads together and kept holding Steve close. “I’ll stay. I’d love to stay.”

He could feel Steve’s smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Here? With me?”

“Here with you.”

Steve kissed him again, still smiling. He picked Sam up like he weighed no more than one of those plates and set him on the counter, stepping in between his knees so that he was as close as he could get.

Sam gasped; he loved it. Loved the show of strength and how close Steve was and the way his hands were roaming everywhere, like he was starving and Sam was the only thing that could satisfy him. Sam squeezed his knees around Steve’s hips, rocking up against him, trying to pull him even closer.

Steve’s cock was as hard as his, and when it rubbed against his own he tilted his head back and let out a low moan. Steve took the opportunity to suck kisses into his neck, and Sam shivered, fingers digging into Steve’s back in response.

Steve worked his way up his neck and tugged his earlobe with his teeth, sucking it into his mouth. If he kept doing that too much longer, Sam was going to come in his pants right there on the kitchen counter, and that wasn’t really how he wanted this to go down.

He pushed Steve away with one hand while the other still held him tightly, making Steve laugh.

“Bed,” he whispered, and Steve’s eyes got even darker.

“Bed.” And then he slid Sam off the counter, one arm under his ass holding him up, the other hand on the back of his neck to hold him steady. Sam groaned and looped his arms around Steve’s shoulders, letting himself be carried back to the bedroom and kissing him the whole way there.

Steve laid him out on the bed and stripped his clothes off slowly, covering every revealed inch of skin with gentle touches and soft kisses. By the time he got to his boxer-briefs, Sam’s cock was straining against the fabric. Steve peeled the waistband down and tugged that last bit of clothing off, then peppered his cock with barely-there kisses, the heat from his breath enough to drive Sam crazy.

When Steve finally took the head of Sam’s cock into his mouth, Sam’s back arched and his hips came up off the bed, only to be pressed right back down by Steve’s unrelenting strength. Without the ability to thrust up, he had no choice but to submit to Steve’s pace. It was messy and wet, and so, so slow, as if Steve planned to spend all day just sucking him off lazily.

Before long Sam was writhing beneath him, fingers threaded through Steve’s hair, messing it up even more than it already had been. 

“Steve...Steve…” he gasped when Steve had as much of him in his mouth as he could take and then just stopped, engulfing him in wet heat, but not licking or sucking or giving him what he needed. “More, please, more.”

Steve ignored him, sliding slowly back up his cock and all the way off.

“Steve…” Sam whined, not caring how desperate he sounded. Steve just grinned at him wickedly and moved farther away, first kneeling to pull his shirt over his head, then moving off the bed completely to take off the rest.

Sam took the opportunity to attempt to catch his breath, but before he could, Steve was back on top of him, kissing him and pressing him into the mattress with his weight. Sam spread his legs so Steve could settle between them and moaned into Steve’s mouth when their cocks brushed against each other.

Steve pulled away from his mouth and started pressing kisses all over his face and neck, talking in between each one.

“I’ve never been great at the talking part of things,” he said, slowly grinding his hips against Sam’s. “Too awkward. But I have to tell you —”

He stopped to suck on Sam’s earlobe again, pulling a groan from deep in his belly. “You are so beautiful.” He reached down and wrapped a hand around both of their cocks, wringing more embarrassing noises out of Sam. “I love watching you. Doesn’t matter what you’re doing...you always look so good.”

He twisted his wrist and Sam pressed up into him, searching for more. “I love the way you move. Every time you fly, I’m gonna be picturing you like this.”

Sam pulled Steve to him and kissed him messily. “Better be careful,” he panted. “Could make things awkward in the field.”

Steve chuckled and nipped at the side of Sam’s neck. “It’ll give Tony something to tease me about. He loves that.”

Sam laughed, and then moaned as Steve’s hand tightened and sped up. Sam was moving on instinct now, his body chasing after the sensations Steve was creating in him. Steve kissed him again, then looked down at him, dopey smile plastered across his face.

“So beautiful,” he said, then kissed Sam again and started stroking in earnest.

Sam was so close that it only took a well-placed bruise sucked into his neck right under his jaw and a few more strokes and then he was tipping over the edge, sparks bursting behind his eyes. He could feel his release splatter over his stomach and chest, followed shortly by Steve’s.

Steve collapsed on the bed next to him and cupped his face with his clean hand. 

“I want to see that every day for the rest of my life.”

It was such a Steve thing to say that all Sam could do was laugh and kiss him. He rolled onto his side and into Steve’s arms, not caring about the mess.

* * *

 

Eventually they got out of bed to clean up. Steve wiped himself off with a washcloth and went to take care of the dishes in the kitchen while Sam took a shower.

He finished and put on more comfortable clothes, pretty sure they weren’t going to leave the apartment anytime soon. He went into the living room and straight into Steve’s arms where he was lounging on the sofa.

Steve laughed and adjusted so that he could more comfortably cradle Sam with his whole body.

“Hi there,” he said, stroking his hands up and down Sam’s arms.

“Hi,” Sam replied. He took one of Steve’s hands and laced their fingers together.

“So I gotta ask...you sure about staying in New York?”

Steve kissed the side of his head. “I’m sure.”

“What about Barnes?”

Sam felt Steve sigh behind him. “We won’t find Bucky if he doesn’t want to be found. I’ve known that for a while, but I didn’t want to admit it.”

Sam hummed understandingly. “What changed?”

“I’ve been so desperate because I thought Bucky was the only family I had left. But after yesterday, being with you and your family...I started thinking maybe I was wrong. That maybe I could build a family right here.”

Sam played with Steve’s fingers, but didn’t say anything. That was kind of a lot — he wasn’t sure he was ready to bear that weight. He wasn’t sure he could.

Steve answered his unspoken concern. “Not just you, although you’re definitely the biggest part of it. But the other day at the Tower with Tony...it seemed like the Avengers could really be something. He said Natasha and Clint are both back in New York, too, so I just...I think it’s time.”

Sam turned so that he could kiss Steve. “I think that sounds really good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sam settled further into Steve’s body, getting comfortable, and closed his eyes.

“Are you gonna let me off this couch anytime soon?”

“Nope,” Sam replied.

As he drifted off to sleep, he thought that maybe he heard Steve whisper that he loved him, but he decided that he could worry about that when he woke up. For now, he was just going to enjoy being wrapped in Steve’s arms.


End file.
